


Martyr

by rockwriter



Category: Grand Theft Auto 5, Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1270225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockwriter/pseuds/rockwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up is never really easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. High Hopes

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoy Floyd's character, and being me, I have a lot of headcanons about him. So that's essentially what this fic is going to be; a whole lot of headcanons about Floyd.
> 
> (Also Transgender Floyd is probably the biggest, so turn back if you don't like that?)
> 
> It's pretty safe for now, and I don't think it will get any more graphic than violence and implied sexual acts, but if it turns out being more, i'll be sure to bump up the rating.
> 
> For a while it's going to be just vignettes from his growing up, but when it catches up to his first introduction in the game, it'll switch to being his appearances mostly.
> 
> CHAPTER 1: High Hopes

“BUT MA! He's weird! And he smells like dirt and cigarettes!”

Your sister's voice is loud in your ears, even from your place sitting in front of your mother on the bed, with her standing several feet away, framed by the doorway. The brush in your mother's hand continues to carefully move through your hair, unstopping, though she does cast a disgruntled glance to your older sibling.

“Carol, we've been over this. Wade is our family, and my sister's going through a tough time. It's the right thing to do.”

A loud, exasperated noise filled the room. “But ma-”

“Enough, Carol.” At this, she promptly slammed the door in the face of you, and your mother. You only blinked. Your mother sighed, ceasing her combing to kiss the top of your head gently.

“Fiona, promise me you aren't going to act like your sister when you're her age.”

\- - - - - -

It was raining heavily when you and your mother had clambered into her tiny Volkswagen, and it only seemed to get worse the further you drove. You never really minded the rain much, the sound of it pattering against the windows was calming. Leaning against the windowsill, a deep tiredness overtook you. The feeling quickly dispersed when the car came to a halt in front of a house that seemed more in shambles than in stability. You immediately recognized your cousin scampering down the cracked sidewalk and nearly throwing himself into the seat beside you. A few errant drops of water had flown onto the leather of the backseat, and you brushed them away with your sleeve.

“Hello Wade, how are you?” Your mother's voice had a distinct politeness to it, something that she was known for. However, the underlying concern in her tone was unmistakable. Wade didn't seem to notice the connotation of her words. You wondered if the concern was because of the quarter sized bruise on his cheek.

“I'm fine”

You always thought Wade's voice was weird, but whenever you brought that up to your mother, concern laced in your words, you always got a firm smack upside the head, with an equally firm _”Young lady don't be saying those kinds of things”_. Whatever odd accent he possessed, his voice was always curt and polite, until someone got him going, at which point it was nearly impossible to make him stop talking.

Today's car ride didn't have one of those occurrences.

You glanced at him quickly. “Hi Wade” Conversing was always something that was difficult for you. By nature, you were quiet, but a different kind of quiet than Wade.

Wade was the courteous, don't-speak-unless-you're-spoken-to kind of quiet.

You were the nervous kind of quiet; mostly because you never knew how to respond.

“Hi” A quick, single syllable response. The silence that fell between the three of you was heavy. You decided the best course of action would be to keep your focus on the streets passing you by, and while the rain splattered window blurred your view, you noticed that it wasn't just Wade's house that was damaged and dirty; the house next to it was as well. The whole street, the whole cul de sac, the surrounding blocks were all trashed. But this thought didn't nag you for very long, as his run down home bled into your stark white, suburban existence.

\- - - - - -

Wade became acquainted with your home routine quickly.

_Your mother woke you up an hour before you were due to be present at your first grade classroom._

He wasn't easy to wake up in the mornings. Even when he was finally upright, his mess of hair hung in his face, and you weren't sure it was physically possible for him to communicate before at least 10:00 AM.

_Your sister hogs all of the hot water._

Wade wasn't as bothered by this as you, and especially your mother, were. He didn't wash his hair very often anyway. You weren't ever eager to agree with your sister, but he did smell like dirt and cigarettes. But he was way too young to smoke, so maybe it was something else. Your mother did complain that your uncle was fond of cuban cigars. You didn't know you could smoke cubes.

_Your mother makes breakfast, usually low in 'calories' or 'gluten', and it usually tastes funny because she's watching her 'cholesterol'._

This shocked your cousin the most. “Ya'll eat in the morning?” When he had first said it, he was ogling his turkey bacon, almost like he had never seen, let alone eaten, food before. From across the table, your mother sipped her coffee and nodded. “I, uh, don't usually eat in the morning. I eat in the day time. Sometimes at night. What is that?” You could tell Wade was set off by the idea of food in the morning. Getting him to stop talking and actually eat would be a challenge. “A muffin” He imitated the sound, though it was incredibly exaggerated. “Can I have one of those?” Your mother nodded once again, smiling at him exasperatedly over the rim of her mug. “You can have anything you like, Wade” His face lit up like Christmas morning, and he was suddenly grabbing anything that seemed edible and shoveling it straight into his mouth. This took you aback, and you blinked rapidly. You had always been taught manners; no elbows on the table, napkin in your lap, chew before you swallow, the whole lot. But here your cousin was, gorging himself until he seemed like he was going to be ill. He burped loudly and covered his mouth. You giggled slightly, and muffled the noise by wiping your mouth with your napkin.

_After the dishes were cleaned, you assemble your belongings into your backpack. Your sister has already taken off in a friend's car._

You neatly placed your diary inside your bag, alongside your pencil case and other notebooks. Wade didn't have a backpack, so your mother let him borrow an old grocery bag. He didn't seem to mind. He also didn't have any supplies, so you promised to share with him. Your mother even interjected that he could use the default pencils if he wanted, since your personal ones might not 'suit his taste'. You frowned; what was wrong with your flower pencils? You thought they looked nice.

_You then wait outside on the corner for the bus._

Wade was out the door in an instant, practically vibrating in his place by the stop sign. Before taking off, he explained that he usually just walked the few blocks to the school. He was excited to ride with his cousin, since it got real lonely on his own way there. However, unlike your counterpart, you were not finished getting ready. You hurried to the bathroom, clipping your bangs to the side, so they wouldn't fall in your face during the day's activities. While finishing up, you took notice of a stain, near your shoulder. Paying it no mind, you darted to grab your bag from your mother.

She made a tsk-tsk noise and rubbed the spot with her thumb.

“I do need to clean this sweater, it's getting old as sin.” You shrugged lightly, and tugged at your mother's sleeve.

“Ma, why does Wade get to eat like that, and I don't?”

“Well, Wade is a boy, sweetie. Boys are messy, girls are clean. You know that.”

She ushered you out the door, and as you trudged your way down the steps, a sad kind of feeling started up in your stomach. You stood next to Wade, both of your hands gripping the straps of your pack. Looking down to your feet, you noticed how different your slippers looked compared to Wade's torn up sneakers.

Your mother's voice echoed in your ears, amplified by the bus' horn.

_Boys are messy, girls are clean. You know that._

\- - - - - -

_You see Wade at lunch time._

It wasn't out of the ordinary to see Wade during lunch. Normally, you would see him with a sack in one hand, residing at the table with the other kids that lived on his street. He would wave to you, and you would usually nod in his direction and move on. However, he sat next to you today.

You chose to sit alone on most days, and the days you didn't want to be alone, you would squeeze yourself on the edge of the teacher's table. As your mother was a friend of the staff, they wouldn't mind. You would listen to the adults talk about the 'stock market' and 'retirement' and how they were also watching their 'cholesterol'.

But, today Wade was your only company, and he was as talkative as he was this morning.

“Fiona, your ma is real generous, have you seen what's in this? She put a cookie insi- FIONA! THE NAPKINS HAVE STUFF WRITTEN ON THEM!” You gave him a small smile and went back to nibbling at your sandwich.

“She usually writes nice stuff on them. Have a good day, and the like.”

Wade shook his head.

“What a nice lady”.

_After school, you ride the bus back home._

You always chose to be at the very front of the bus.

The middle was where the third graders buzzed back and forth about radio programmes and the new episode of some tv show.

The back was where tired fifth graders lounged and complained about their advanced mathematics.

And then, the **back-back.**

The back-back was where the teenagers from middle school lurked. You wanted to be as far away from the middle school kids as you could. Your sister was among them, and you knew if you got too close, you would be singled out.

Wade plopped next to you. He seemed tired, but also relieved.

“It's nice to not have to walk all th' way back home.”

“I bet.”

He was quiet for a minute or so, sensing your awkward nature. He left you be while the bus unloaded kids, and you made sure to keep your head, and Wade's, hidden as your sister was dropped off near her friend's house. Or her boyfriend's house. You didn't really know the difference.

When the noise had died down, he poked gently at your arm.

“I got a spiderman sticker for cleaning erasers today.” He was quiet again, but only for a moment. “Do you want it?”

The question took you by surprise. You weren't sure how to respond. It wasn't every day you were offered a spiderman sticker. You didn't even know if you were supposed to accept it.

So you decided to use your own judgment. Swallowing hard, you nodded and he scrounged the sticker from his pocket. It was untouched, still attached to its paper. You took it from him and looked at it for a while, before sliding it gently into your backpack's side pocket.

_You arrive home at 1:30, and your mother scolds you to do your homework._

Wade seems extremely confused about this, but before he can give your mother a heart attack, you pull him into the study room.

“You do homework?” His question seems, well, asinine in your head. But the way he says it; it's really genuine. “Yeah.” You pull out your math folder, and take out your sheet of addition problems. “Ma wants me to get into a good college. One for the really smart people.”

As you set to work, he swings his feet, trying to touch the ground from his position, reclined back in the chair.

“Good thing you're a really smart people”

_You sit down at dinner with your mother and sister._

Tonight, your mother made spaghetti. You've always been impartial to it, but Wade seems to think it's the food of the gods.

“Is it supposed to smoke like that?”

Your mother prepares to explain to him what it is, but your sister interrupts before she has the chance.

“It's steam, idiot”

“ **CAROL!** ”

Wade visibly flinches and sinks in his chair a bit, his shoulders slumped and his eyes staring into his lap.

“m'sorry”

Your mother glares at your sister for a long while after that. “Don't be.” She says it through clenched teeth, not once breaking eye contact with your sister. She doesn't seem to be remorseful for her outburst.

The rest of dinner is completely silent, but a sudden ringing from the house phone break through it. Your mother stands up, pushing her chair in a tad forcefully, before taking large strides to reach it.

A burst of yelling from the other end of the line causing your mother to jerk the receiver away from her ear.

“Alice, calm down, please!”

Wade's head whips up, and he whines in confusion.

“That's my ma's name..” His voice is shaking, but deathly quiet.

“Alice, I-”

You catch snippets of the other party's words.

_Will....too far......not safe.......leaving town......._

Part of you wants to hear more, but the voice becomes increasingly quiet, and your mother murmurs some simple words of understanding. You look over at Wade, he's gone pale. Really pale.

“I understand, Alice. I'll be in touch. Be safe. Goodbye.”

She hangs up the phone, not moving from her spot for a while. When she does, she begins picking up dirty dishes from the table, and silently starts running the water to clean them.

_Your father gets home very late._

Your cousin doesn't seem to understand why your mother kisses the top of your head like she always does, and says to go to bed right after your father gets home. She flicks the light off, and you snuggle into the comforter on your side of the couch. Wade stays sitting upright.

“So, your pa gets home real late, so you get to stay up extra and see him?”

You yawn. “Yep. He's a foreman at the docks. Works real late.”

“And you just, wait?”

“Usually”

He hums quietly, but is silent after, seeing your tiredness. But, just like Wade, he makes an interjection.

“You got any movies?” “We uh, have a recording of Annie, the play. It's kinda like a movie, but without all the special effects.”

He sheepishly requests to watch it, and you heave yourself off the couch, digging through your collection of vcr tapes, which is admittedly hard in the dark, and pop it in. At first, Wade is enamored with the tv screen, though as time passes, his head hits the pillow, and he's struggling to keep his eyes open. The door creaks open as the red haired orphan is singing about 'Tommorow'. Normally, you would have jumped to greet your father, but at the moment, you're far too tired. He lumbers over, kissing your forehead.

“Sleep well, kiddo.”

On the way out he pulls the covers over Wade and adjusts his pillow.

\- - - - - -

You wake up later that night, the recesses of a nightmare leaving you shaking. You gently pull the blankets away, taking care not to disturb your sleeping family member. On a whim, you tip-toe into the study room, where you've left your bag.

You flip the desk lamp on, taking a seat, wiping away lingering tears from your nighttime fear. A sudden thought grips you, and the urge is far too strong to ignore.

Retrieving the worn diary from your bag, you set it on the table. Opening it to the front cover, you stick spiderman right there in the middle. Taking a stray pencil, you write beneath it in tired, crooked letters;

_I wanna be Spiderman._


	2. Childhood's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! 
> 
> Warning for some swearing, and very light violence

Like most families in the concrete suburbia, when Sunday rolled around, church was mandatory.

It was almost ritualistic; cram the entire family into the car early in the morning, dressed up like a dream, sit in the sweltering heat of a packed building, and crane your eyes and neck to try and soak in the words of the preacher. However, a good breakfast at Tony's after the service made any inconvenience the trip caused infinitesimally unimportant.

Even though you weren't overly fond of crowded buildings, you never disliked going to church.

Your thoughts were always very jumbled to start with. You never knew what to think, or believe, and in all honesty, your whole brain was confusing. Your schedule was the same every day, your mother stuck to tradition, and even your sister, in all her high school diploma-toting glory, was predictable, at the very least.

But you, you were something else.

You've never been a very confident person, you know that, and you accept that, but you aren't just questioning your talents and skills anymore. You don't know who you are, who you're supposed to be. You don't know if you were born right, if you dare admit it.

These disjointed thoughts are swirling in your head, and your Sunday dress is beginning to feel more and more like a personal prison than anything. The smell of gasoline and heat is threatening to suffocate you and Wade's constant shifting next to you is creeping through your peripheral vision.

“I just don't see why we gotta go”

From the passenger seat, you see your mother's mouth twitch with the faint traces of barely contained irritation. It was unlike her to be irritable, but the sheer humidity of June in San Andreas was clearly getting to everyone, including her.

“It's our duty, as good Christian folk.”  
  
Wade huffed, sinking lower in his seat, as far as his seat belt would allow. Your sister made a similar noise, crossing her arms and shifting closer to the window.

“Well, my ma don't go to church and she's a good Christian.” Wade's voice was quiet, and though his words seemed spiteful, his voice gave away his desperation. At the mention of your aunt, your mother seemed to visibly tense up, and the corners of her mouth twitched for just a moment.

Aunt Alice had left Wade in your mother's custody several years ago, and hardly a few months prior to this day, your mother had explained to you and Wade why.

She was unhappy. Uncle Will's abuse was too much for her. There was nothing that could keep her in that town.

Not even her son.

She had kept communication with your family for a while after leaving town, the phone call a week enough to goad Wade into believing she was just taking a break, a vacation, even. But the amount of time between each regrouping grew, and soon it was contact every few months. She told your mother she was leaving San Andreas. She stopped calling at all. It had been years since the last message, but for whatever reason, she allowed Wade to believe that his ma was going to come home some day. Any day now. When she had finally told the truth, he took it hard.

He was still struggling with the knowledge that his own mother had abandoned him.

The silence following his comment rapidly became unbearable, and your father was quick to turn the radio on.

\- - - - - - - -

You don't pay much attention to the service.

The preacher's voice droning on about heaven and hell is interesting, but you're sure God can understand why you're distracted.

The distant memory of the past few years is coming back to you in a blur, a sudden rush of events. You've spent so long trying to pin point what is wrong with you, what is causing this melancholic sense of disconnection.

Are you depressed? You don't think so. It's not like you aren't happy, you just feel like the person whose eyes you're looking out of right now are different than the person who is you.

Therapy isn't exactly an option, not with a woman like your mother. No sir-ee, no, her daughter is perfectly fine. She's smart and gets good grades and doesn't talk back. It dawns on you that 'she' is such an ugly word. It assaults your eyes like a hiss, like acid burning up your throat in the midst of a fever. It's not bad to say, just bad to hear.

Some words are just like that, you guess.

Wade lets out a low growl, and it rips you from your thoughts immediately.

“I don't get it. What's the point. What's the god-dang point.”

You nudge him softly.

“Come on, Wade, it doesn't matter what the point is. It's just what we have to do.”

He's being over dramatic. You understand how hard it is for him right now, but his attitude is really beginning to get on your nerves. At least he knows who he is. Your words push him further towards the edge, and his voice is an octave higher than before.

“God ain't ever done anything for me, why should I do anythin' for him?”

He does have a point.

“Well, that's tough, but it's what we gotta do.”

Just as soon as the words leave your mouth, just as soon as you repeat that phrase one more time, he's long gone. Wade stands up and shoves his way across the row, down the aisle and slams the door on his way out. Your mother is on her feet, apologizing to the people who seem disturbed.

“Fiona, go find him”

\- - - - -

He isn't difficult to find.

After asking the woman at the reception desk where the 'angry, dirty, blond boy stormed off too' she directed you to a hallway leading to the far exit.

The farthest exit in the building led to a courtyard, and a trail circling the small area of extra land that the church owned. The grass was overgrown, and the seething, black suited kid that was your cousin wasn't hard to spot. He was pacing back and forth, his hands balled tightly in fists. He was muttering and hissing to himself, but you doubted that it was anything more than curses and rambling.

You took slow steps to him, as if walking at a normal speed would frighten him off or trigger him further into a rage. Clearing your throat got his attention.

“Uh, hey Wade. I'm sorry abou-”

“Why.”

The cold in his voice shook you to the bone. His voice was so emotionless, you were half tempted to check his pulse. You didn't see how people who were really, truly alive could sound like he did at this very moment.

“Why would she just leave me here?”

His fists shook, and his voice was emotional again.

“Why would my ma just....just leave with no goodbye or anything, why would she just..”

Wade was trembling violently now, and you could hear the tears in his voice. You finally made the steps to be close enough to touch him. Hesitantly, you touched his shoulder. You could feel the tremors running through him as each sob hit him like a gust from a hurricane, like the blast of a gun. He sunk to his knees, dirtying his slacks with grass and mud. You sat beside him, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding on as if it were the only thing that was keeping him from just falling right back over the edge.

You held on to him as well, with a certain degree of assertiveness that felt foreign to you, and you quietly told him it was going to be okay.

\- - - - - - -

The following Monday was just like any other Monday; as dull as watching paint dry, or reading the dictionary. That is, until your last period; Algebra. In the middle of a lesson on polynomials, a very strange sensation overtook you.

It was sudden, exhilarating desire to do something risky, something dangerous.

The urge coursed through your veins, and you were sure you were going to lose control of yourself and do something terrible. You were a dangerous kid right now. Scanning the room, you searched for something to get your mind off of this insane want, no, this insane **need.**

Your eyes locked onto a pencil before you could stop yourself.

“This assignment will be due next class period...”

You are going to do this.

“Study for the quiz on Thursday....”

You are going to do this incredibly risky action.

“Dismissed”

You're out of your seat in the blink of an eye, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. You pass the third farthest desk away from the stray pencil. It's calling out to you.

You pass the second. You pass the first. You're right next to the desk. You swipe the pencil, shoving it into your jacket's pocket.

When you exit the building, having pushed past the swarm of other students leaving for the day, ecstasy surges through you, and you don't even bother to wait for the bus. You don't bother to wait for Wade either. The pure, drug-like energy has replaced all of your insides, and you run, by god, you run.

You run for at least half an hour, stopping to compose yourself in the middle of the sidewalk, putting your hands on your knees for support, desperately swallowing down air, your throat dry and your heart thudding painfully against your chest. Your mind is still livid, but you know that you've worn yourself down physically.

Looking around to get your bearings, you realize that you have run not only beyond your neighborhood, and even your neighboring neighborhoods; you've run straight into the cul de sac where Wade used to live. His old house sticks out, and fears crawls up your spine, prickling against your nerves. You turn back, and walk as fast as you can back to your home, where you belong.

As you go, the memories of Wade's father, your uncle, resurface.

You remember, specifically, the time he had showed up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, just a few weeks after your aunt had first left, piss drunk and demanding to have his 'goddamn fucking kid back'.

Your father had answered, the unpleasant visit interrupting his seeing you and your cousin after work.

His voice was firm when he had slowly told your uncle to leave. Wade looked like he was going to start crying at any moment, just by the small glances of his father that he could see past your own.

“You're drunk, Will. Just go home.”

“I'm tellin' you, he's my fuckin' boy, I can take him back if I want.” His voice had been slurred, and he'd attempted to push past your father, but he stood his ground. “I'll fuckin beat the shit out of you if you don't get outta my way”

The police had arrived, your mother using the time they had spent arguing to call. He was dragged away by the men in uniforms, kicking and screaming like a child “WADE YOU LITTLE SHIT, YOU AIN'T GONNA GET AWAY LIKE YOUR WHORE MA DID! I SWEAR I'M GONNA FUCKIN-” He was cut off as his head was shoved down, and into the police car.

Wade was deathly quiet the rest of that night, but even with you letting him sleep with your stuffed bear, you had heard him crying quietly from the living room throughout the night.

\- - - - - - -

When you finally arrived in front of your house, the sun was on the way to setting. You swallowed, hard; you supposed it took longer to get somewhere when you weren't high off the glory of your first theft.

You pushed the door open quietly, nearly jumping in surprise when you saw Wade.

His nose was bleeding, a bruise forming on the bridge, and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. He had an icepack on one hand, but you could see that both were scraped and cut badly. He shot you a look, a mix of pain and shame.

Your mother quickly stormed from the kitchen, her eyes aflame, and her hand already raised. She grabbed your hand and tugged you away from the door.

“Fiona Hebert, do you know what happened to your cousin after school?”

“I, um, Wade looks hurt” Your voice cracked slightly. You were confused and concerned, eyes constantly darting to look at Wade on the couch.

“Wade was assaulted on the way home today, Fiona. He was waiting for you, and when he missed the bus, he walked home. On the way, a group of juniors jumped him for being 'retarded', do you realize why this happened, Fiona?”

You heard Wade make a noise of discomfort from across the living room, and your mother instantly let go of you.

“I'm taking him to the hospital. Go to your room, and I'll have a long talk with your father later tonight.”

The rest of the night went by in a blur; your mother leaving with Wade, the walk upstairs and into your room, sitting down and letting the realization sink in.

You stole that pencil today. You didn't go home because of the excitement. Wade was jumped on the way home and he was alone because you broke the rules

You couldn't control yourself.

You didn't know when you started crying, but you did, and through your tears, you broke that effing pencil in half and threw it in the garbage bin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it kinda escalated pretty quickly from the first chapter but HEY WHAT CAN YA DO! Hopefully you all enjoy this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah! Thanks for reading! I do hope the motivation to keep writing this stays with me, and if not, well, that's that.
> 
> (I didn't mean to write his sister so terrible but then i remembered she was in middle school and i think all middle schoolers were awful)


End file.
